song hole pushchair

 Today's blackbird looks almost two dimensional in the winter light. This afternoon for the first time this year I hear  such a blackbird sing if not this one.

In the shrubbery of the house opposite a big tunnel has appeared. I peer in like Alice, but cannot see beyond a bend. A fox has been at work. The sense of something wild so close is always exciting when you live in a town, where nature generally suppressed.

A couple of our acquaintance approach us with a push chair. It is the sort of push chair that might be used in a sci-fi movie. It seems to be composed of a number of spheres connected by tubes. On the steering bar is a fur muff to keep the hands of the driver warm. "Our daughter-in-law loves this sort of thing", they say. "But we don't know how to make all the gadgets work". A wind blows round the hood and all sorts of  brakes are erected in front of the hole where a baby resides. "It turns into a high chair in  restaurants," they add. We are so interested in the device that as we move on we realise that we have omitted to look inside, to admire and make appropriate noises about the child.